


Truth and Desire

by thedevilchicken



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Character Death Fix, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings Realization, M/M, Post-Canon, Something Made Them Do It, Underworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Alexios journeys to Hades to bring Brasidas back.Two gods stand between him and his goal: Aletheia, goddess of truth, and Himeros, god of desire. They ask for tribute, and he must choose.
Relationships: Alexios/Brasidas (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 130
Collections: Naughty List 2019





	Truth and Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).

Two gods stand at the gate and say, "You must pay tribute." They say, "If you want this, you must choose." 

To his right is Aletheia, goddess of truth, with her piercing eyes; to his left is Himeros, god of desire, with his languid smile; between them sits Brasidas, on the wide stone steps before the gates of Hades. He's smiling faintly, placidly, but his hands are clasped so tightly that his knuckles are white. 

Alexios wonders what Brasidas would say if he could speak. But he can't speak. Those are the rules, and Alexios hasn't come this far to fail now. He hasn't done the things he's done to fail now. He won't go back empty-handed.

"Choose," says Aletheia. 

"Choose," says Himeros. 

Alexios sets his jaw. He clenches his fists. He understands the choice; all he has to do now is make it. But he _understands the choice_ and that's why it's so hard. If he chooses Aletheia, there's so many truths he'll have to say out loud, things he's done and things he's wanted, people that he's fucked, or killed, or fucked then killed. If he chooses Himeros, the offering is sex. He can live with that, he thinks, giving himself to Himeros, even if it means Brasidas has to see, even if Brasidas thinks less of him because of it. So maybe the choice isn't hard after all. 

"I've made my choice," Alexios says. "I make my offering to Himeros." Then he looks at Brasidas, just to see him smile one last time before he's filled with proper Spartan disgust, once Alexios is filled with Himeros' cock, but Brasidas isn't smiling. He's wincing. He's clasping his hands so hard his arms are shaking. Then his gaze snaps to Alexios, and he begins to rise. He begins to strip. 

"Wait!" Alexios says. "What's going on? I thought..."

Himeros shrugs, the human action seeming almost foreign on him. "Yes, you did," he says. "Maybe you should have asked." 

"Can I change my mind?"

Aletheia sighs. "Oh, it's much too late for that," she says. "You should probably just take off your clothes." 

It only takes seconds until Brasidas is entirely naked on the steps there that lead up to Elysium. The gate stands open behind him, looking onto a broad green field and an orchard full of shining apples but here, outside, all there is is stone and fire and blood, and the river Styx that rushes close behind. Alexios is dripping wet from it, from washing off Cerberos' blood. Hades' hound isn't dead, just licking his wounds, but he knows Alexios has beaten him. That's just one of the things he's done to get this far.

And then Brasidas steps forward. And _then_ Alexios understands, because suddenly it floods him, and he feels it, everywhere, setting his teeth on edge and roiling in his gut, making his pulse race frantically. It's in his skin, in his flesh and in his blood, oh gods, his _blood_, gods' blood, their blood, clawing. He's hot, too hot, burning up, and his cock strains, and he aches, and Brasidas...Brasidas has one hand wrapped tight around himself. His eyes are dark. And Alexios wants him, more than he ever has before though oh how he's wanted. This is what he wants, more than anything in the world above, more than a home or a family or the end of the Cult, more than drachmae or life or ever leaving this place. He fumbles with his tunic, can't pull it off so he _tears_ it off, but his skin's too hot and too tight and Brasidas touches him. Brasidas steps in close and kisses him, but it's not enough, not enough not enough not enough. 

When Brasidas pushes him down, he goes down. He goes down on his hands and his knees on the ground, on his own torn tunic, hangs his head, spreads his knees, feels Brasidas' hands at the curve of his arse. Brasidas parts his cheeks and Alexios wants to tell him _just do it_, wants to tell him _now_, and _hard_, and _I don't care if it hurts_, but all he can do is fucking moan. Brasidas spits against his hole and Alexios feels the muscle fucking flutter as Brasidas rubs his cock against the rim of it. And fuck, oh fuck, oh fucking Zeus and every god on fucking Olympos, the fact is that Brasidas never would have done this before now. Good Spartan men don't do this. Unless they're as hopelessly, divinely aroused as Alexios is, and he knows, he _knows_, he's the one who did this. 

It gets worse. It gets better, yes, but it also gets worse, because then Brasidas pushes into him, slowly, gripping one of Alexios' hips with one of his hands and nudging his cock into place with the other. He pushes in and all Alexios can feel is pleasure, shivers of it, tingles of it, dancing through his skin and in his chest and down his cock. Brasidas rakes the length of Alexios' spine with his fingertips and makes him fucking groan and push back, rock his hips, till he's practically fucking himself on the length of Brasidas' cock. He can't help it. As much as he wanted it before, now he couldn't stop himself for anything. 

Brasidas moves. He grabs Alexios' hips and he shoves in hard, again, again, a hard rhythm, skin slapping skin, like he knows just what Alexios wants and who knows, maybe he does, maybe Himeros is telling him, maybe Himeros is driving him, maybe he hates it and he's horrified except he's been made to want it, too. But, by all the cursed gods, it's _still_ not enough. Alexios pushes him back, and out, and down; Alexios straddles his hips and grabs his cock and a second later he's pushing down, pushing Brasidas up inside him, spearing himself on the length of him, while the gods look on impassively. 

He shouldn't have done it, though. On his back on the haphazard pile of their clothes, Brasidas is facing him, and as Alexios moves, as he rocks his hips, as he starts to ride him, clutching his own thighs, Brasidas is watching him. The look on his face is almost unbearable, his bared teeth, his eyes...but Alexios can't look away. Alexios has had so many lovers it would be believable to say he's lost count, but he could count them if he wanted to - he just knows that none of them, as much as he liked them, as much as he enjoyed their company, as much as he would have done everything in his power to help them if they needed him...none of them meant as much to him as this man does. His friend. His ally. The one he's come here to retrieve, where no living man should be. 

He should have just told the truth, humiliating as that might have been. And failing that, he should make this quick - he knows he should, but he can't. He rides him, his thighs straining, his chest tight and his back arched and his cock jutting up hard between his thighs, so flushed at the head that it's almost fucking purple. Brasidas watches him. Brasidas spreads his arms wide on the stony ground and looks at him, his gaze hot, raking over him. Brasidas looks at his face and his chest and his bare abdomen and he looks at his cock, wet at the tip, looks at it like he's hungry for it, almost like he wants Alexios as much as Alexios wants him, so he's only too happy to oblige. Alexios moves. He pulls back and he hates himself, he _hates_ himself, but he grabs at some ridiculous moisturising salve Barnabas gave him for his hands back on board the Adrestia and he slicks his entire cock with it. He braces one of Brasidas' legs against his chest and shoulder, bares his hole, lines up... He pushes in. Brasidas lets him. And fuck, he's so tight and hot, and _fuck_, Brasidas wraps his other leg around Alexios' waist and holds tight to his thighs. 

That's all the encouragement Alexios needs. He fucks him. Hard and deep. Harder. Deeper. He fucks him till they're both gasping, and then he knows, from the way Brasidas' muscles tighten, from the look on his face, from the feel of him...so he reaches out and grabs his broken spear. When Brasidas comes, when he takes Alexios over with him, time slows because he wants it to, because he makes it. He makes it last. In this place, if maybe no other, he knows Brasidas feels it, too. 

Then, when he's finished, whatever Himeros did to him stops as if it never started. Suddenly, the heat in his blood is just gone again, and he knows with a sickening lurch that Brasidas doesn't feel it, either. All Brasidas could possibly feel is an ache in his back and a stiffness in his legs and Alexios' softening cock still inside him, and Alexios can't stand it. He pulls back. He stands, his head reeling. And while Brasidas dresses behind him, Alexios turns to the gods. 

"Are we done here?" he asks. 

Himeros shrugs. "Take him," he replies. 

"That's it? No rules? No conditions? No _don't look back_?"

"You're not Orpheus," Aletheia says. "And you did what we asked." 

"So we just...go?"

"You might need this," Himeros says, and he pulls off his own tunic. "Yours looks somewhat...damaged." 

So Alexios puts it on, as if a borrowed tunic can replace all that he's just lost, and he looks at Brasidas. They leave. They walk away, past poor injured Cerberos, to Charon's boat. They cross the Styx. And outside, a long walk through the winding tunnels later, through the outer gate that opens at the touch of Alexios' spear, in the sun outside, Alexios does look at him again for the first time. 

He expects disgust. He expects rejection. Brasidas, though, is smiling. Alexios frowns in return. 

"Well, Brasidas?"

Brasidas clasps Alexios' arms, like he's trying to confirm he's real. Then he hugs him, tightly, almost squeezing the wind out of him. Then he kisses him, soundly, on the mouth. He's real. They both are. He almost can't believe this worked.

"Brasidas..."

"Well, I don't suppose I imagined it being like that for the first time," Brasidas says, with his usual twinkle. "But I don't suppose I ever imagined having sex in the underworld at all."

"You imagined having sex with me?"

"You didn't imagine it with me?"

"I didn't say that." 

Brasidas grins. "Then you did." 

Alexios rubs the back of his neck. "I did," he says. "But you're starting to make my head hurt like Sokrates." 

Brasidas smiles. He squeezes Alexios' arms again. "I imagined having to persuade you that I don't find sex shameful." 

"You don't?"

"Let's just say I believe a number of Spartan laws should be...revised." 

"You could have told me."

"Well, I thought there might be time. Not that wounding three-headed dogs would be somehow a prerequisite."

Alexios laughs. And they turn for Sparta, the underworld behind them. 

"You know, Aletheia would have done the same as Himeros," Brasidas says, as they walk together. 

"I thought she was truth, not desire." 

"You don't think that was truth?"

And Alexios pauses. He stops in the road and Brasidas stops with him. Alexios steps close, with a tight warmth in his chest. 

"I think that might be the most truthful that I've ever been," he says. 

And he means it.


End file.
